Pictures
by Sunset Shadows
Summary: COMPLETE A picture is worth a thousand words... but Draco isn't getting the message. Good thing for Harry, but what happens when the peices come together? Uh-oh... Slash--HarryDraco. Later RonHermione. Rating for just in case.
1. Through your pictures I find myself lovi

1,288 words! And that's not counting the author's note! There will be more very soon, it's all already written and divided into chapters and all... Every chapter is over a thousand words, and there will be seven chapters. Total, there's over eight thousand. I think it was 8,566 or something.

This was originally meant to be a one-shot... and then it got longer... and longer... and I couldn't end it without fixing Ron and 'Mione... and it got longer... and longer... So I made chapters. And I'm contemplating a sequel. 

Pairings: Ron/Hermione, Draco/Harry (mostly D/H, they're so cuuuute!)

Warnings: Slashiness ahead, stay away if you don't like that. Straight relationship ahead, stay away if you don't like that. Spellchecked, but not beta-read, so forgive any mistakes. Flames will be used to warm my cold old bones...

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry. Don't own Ron. Don't own 'Mione. Don't own Draco. Don't own any of the characters that show up except for one in the last chapter.

On with the fic!

= = =

Soft blonde hair... cocked eyebrows... long lashes, for a boy... deep gray eyes... perfect nose... full lips... strong shoulders... trademark smirk... And he held a single sprig of lavender.

Draco frowned at the painting. It wasn't signed, and had been sent by one of the school owls. Who, though, who would know him so well as to catch the thoughts behind the smirk in a painting? Who could understand him like this?

He carefully folded the parchment and slipped it into his pocket.

= = =

Tears. Tears, this time. And still the signature lavender. Draco puzzled over the painting. _No one's ever seen me cry,_ he thought. But not just crying. He was injured, as well, blood running down his scalp from a cut on his temple.

Unconsciously, Draco lifted his hand to the scar on his temple. How did this person know, whoever it was--whoever _she_ was, since she obviously liked him. Draco slipped the painting into his pocket, intending to put it with the others in his dresser--in the hexed drawer--later, after breakfast.

Draco glanced at the Gryffindor table and frowned. Potter was staring at him, his eyes curious. Not hostile, not glaring, just curious. Draco thought he noticed a bit of a blush before the other boy managed a sufficient death-look and turned away.

= = =

Tears, a smirk, laughter, disgust, and pain. Draco looked at the five pictures, wondering how he would be able to find out who this person was. He felt maybe he'd like to talk to them before he found out, just to say he liked the paintings.

Silently, he crept out of bed and up to the Slytherin common room, out of the dungeons, through the corridors, out the front doors, across the grounds and into the Owlery. He clutched parchment and quill in his hand, and wrote a quick note.

_I know you probably won't tell me who you are, so just answer these questions, please._

_What House are you in?  
How long have you been watching me?  
Where did you learn to paint? They're beautiful, and I'm not just saying that because they're of me, even though I am lovely. You could make a pile of dragon dung look beautiful. _

_Will you ever tell me who you are?_

_Why do you always show me holding lavender? It's my favorite scent, but no one knows that but me._

_Thank you,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco pulled one of the paintings from his pocket, rolled up his note, and stuffed his quill in his pocket while looking around at the owls to find the one that had brought him his pictures every time. There it was--a barn owl, asleep on its roost. Draco poked it gently, trying to awaken it, and finally, it opened an indignant eye, as if to say, _What do you want? I was sleeping..._

Draco showed the bird the picture. "See this?" he whispered. "I want you to take this," he tied his note onto the owl's leg, "to the person who sent you this." He held up the picture again. "Do you understand?" He shivered, wishing he'd brought a cloak. The owl nipped his finger and took off, out the open ceiling.

Shivering, Draco made his way back to his dormitory and slept.

= = =

Shivering.

Shivering and blue-lipped, Draco hugged himself as he walked slowly across the grounds. Draco could practically see himself move as he stared at the painting. He turned it over, looking for a note, and a piece of parchment fluttered to the floor.

_You're right, Draco--if I may call you such--I won't tell you who I am, or what House I'm in, except that it isn't Slytherin. Nice try, though. Yes, you are lovely; I've been watching you since I met you on the train in our first year. I learned to paint by sitting in my room and painting--birds, trees, what I see out my window. I'm glad you liked my paintings, but no one could make dragon dung beautiful. Maybe, someday, I'll tell you who I am, but not now. The lavender is because I saw you once in Greenhouse One, where the Muggle plants and the tamer magical plants are, holding a sprig of lavender and just looking so... beautiful, I had to paint it. I meant to do that next, but I saw you making your way back from the Owlery and I did that instead. I was awake almost all night working on it, and I thought it wouldn't be dry soon enough to send it this morning. I don't mind--I wasn't going to sleep anyway. _

_Love,_

_Unsigned_

Draco frowned. 'Unsigned' was an unusual, if not creative, pen name. Before the owl could fly off, he wrote out a reply.

_Thank you for answering, I wasn't sure you would. Yes, you can call me Draco, but I must have something to call you other than 'Unsigned.' This bloody owl's about to fly off, so I better wrap it up, but first tell me--why do you not sleep at night? _

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco attached the note to the owls leg and whispered, "Take it to them in their dormitory," before letting it leave. Miffed, the bird soared up and away, one of the last to leave the Hall.

= = =

This one, this one was imagined, surely. Draco was certain--well, almost certain--that he'd never smiled gratefully in all his time at Hogwarts.

Draco turned the painting over, catching the parchment that fluttered down before it hit the floor.

_I would come running if you whistled, but for the fact that I cannot let you know who I am. It always comes down to that, doesn't it? Call me... call me Alone, because that is what I am--alone and unloved, with little hope save for you. You brighten my day, Draco Malfoy, and I love you for it. I don't mind saying that, but if you knew who I was, I wouldn't dare. _

_When you see me, I don't appear to be alone. I have good friends, but I want more than that. I want love. I want someone to whom I can tell all my deepest secrets and fears. No one knows me enough to truly love me, and even if they do, they don't love me the way I want to be loved. Only you can help me there--I would have no other._

_I don't sleep much at nights. I sleep best when I dream of you, but alas!--those nights are rare. Heh... I guess I'm sounding like some old mystic... thing, aren't I? I can't help it--when I'm talking to you, everything comes out like poetry. _

_This is my first painting of you. It was around Christmas of our second year, so I apologize if it isn't up to scratch. There's mo more time for me to write--I have to pay attention, or --_something was crossed out here-- _one of my friends will kill me. _

_Love,_

_Alone_

Draco frowned.

_Somehow, I get the feeling that you aren't a girl. It doesn't matter to me--I'm bisexual, did you know that?--but something in the way you write comes off as completely male. Tell me, please, if I'm right. _

_I don't want you to be alone. Somehow, through your paintings perhaps, I find myself loving you. But, as I love you, I find myself hurting when I think of your pain. Don't hurt anymore, because when you hurt, I hurt._

_Love,_

_Draco Malfoy_

He pocketed the painting--him, sitting in a greenhouse beside a lavender bush, a sprig of the stuff twirling between his fingers--and sent the letter off with the owl.


	2. Through your pain I find myself loving y...

There was no painting, no letter the next day, nor the next. Draco found himself staring, looking for the familiar owl which carried his letters, but none came. Draco found himself lying awake nights thinking about this strange boy, and more than once, crying. He bumped into Potter one day exiting the Great Hall after dinner.

"Shove off, Potter, you're in my way."

"And we're just supposed to stand aside and let you pass? What are you, some kind of king?" the Weasel snapped back.

Draco shot the red-headed boy a death glare. "Potty, the Weasel, and Mudblood most certainly should stand aside for a member of the Malfoy family!"

Ron's face flushed in anger. "Yeah, well--"

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Potter said softly. Incredulous, the Weasel and Draco both looked at him. Draco noted the dark circles under his eyes and the tiredness in his voice when he spoke. "He's not worth it." He turned and walked off, and Weasley, after shooting another death glare at Draco, followed. Mudblood hurried to catch up, and as Draco made his way to his dormitory, he found himself thinking about Potter.

He'd looked like he hadn't slept in days, and Draco wondered if that was obvious in himself as well. To his admirer, to Alone, it must have been.

= = =

_Where have you been? Why haven't you written me? You told me you loved me, and I love you too, so why are you avoiding me? If you really don't want to tell me who you are, that's all right, but... please, just don't shut me out like this!_

The owl soared up and away, and Draco made his way back to bed, but he didn't sleep.

= = =

_I'm sorry, Draco. I was... I was surprised, and almost... afraid. No, I can't tell you, because you would hate me if you knew. I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long--was it really only a week? It felt like so much longer... _

_No, I'm not a girl, and I'm glad that doesn't matter to you. I haven't slept... but neither have you, I wager. Get some sleep, love, and I won't have to paint you like this. _

_Love,_

_Alone(?)_

Draco looked at the painting. His hair was disheveled, his eyelids drooping, bags below his eyes. He looked a mess, and it fit, because he was a mess. He sighed.

_I would never hate you if I knew who you were. I want to know, and I'll find out myself if I have to. _

_Draco_

= = =

"Draco, would you be so kind as to correct Mr. Potter's essay?" Snape asked.

"Gladly, Professor." Draco took Harry's parchment with a smirk, noting the other boy's exhausted features. _But since when do I care?_ he thought, looking down at the untidy--and very familiar--scrawl. Reading it through once, twice, in record time, he cocked his head in confusion a moment, and then looked up into Potter's green eyes--fearful green eyes. "Alone," he said softly.

Potter--Harry only nodded.

Draco glanced back down at the essay and handed it to Snape. "It looks fine, Professor," he said, looking back at Potter, who looked at him in surprise for a moment before adding fairy wings to his potion.

= = =

_I told you I wouldn't hate you. I never hated you, Harry. Well, okay, maybe in first year, but that was so long ago, it doesn't even matter anymore. I love you, and you're not alone anymore._

_Love_

_Draco Malfoy_

= = =

Draco was angry.

Draco was pissed off.

Draco was ready to kill.

And Draco recognized the expression. It was the one he used around Potter--reserved for Potter, as a matter of fact. Frowning at the painting, he looked for the note he knew would be there.

_You're not serious. Are you feeling okay? Even I, as much as I know about you, never saw anything but loathing in your eyes from the moment we met. I don't--I can't believe it... but I guess I do believe it, or else why would I be writing?_

_Love_

_Alo--Harry_

_= = =_

_I am serious. I love you, Harry Potter, and I want to see you at the Astronomy tower at midnight tonight._

_Love_

_Draco_

_= = =_

A soft look of surprise flitted across Draco's features, and seemed almost to melt away as the real Draco looked at that painting. Draco wondered how on earth Po--Harry had managed to get the subtly wider eyes and slight shrinking of his frown so that it barely looked like he was surprised at all. Amazing. Bloody amazing.

_I'll be there._

= = =

Draco sat on the balcony railing, staring up at the stars. He felt eyes boring into his back, and he turned to see the invisibility cloak falling around Potter's feet. He wore Muggle clothing, and he looked good in it. Draco smiled a small, wolfish smirk. "Harry."

"Ma--Draco." Potter's voice was hesitant, as if afraid that Draco would suddenly tell him it was all a joke thought up by the Slytherins once they found out the their mysterious painter was Harry Freaking Potter.

"Come sit with me." Draco gestured to Harry, who sat nervously next to him. Draco looked at the thin boy--did he ever get anything to eat?--and found himself tracing a finger along his jaw line. Harry's green eyes met his, and Draco couldn't stand it any longer.

Harry's lips were like silk, soft and smooth against his own. Draco moved his lips against Harry's, forcing the other boy's mouth open. Harry moaned softly and pressed into the kiss--Draco tasted like vanilla.

"Draco..." Harry whispered. His eyes opened, and he smiled. He brought his hand out from behind his back--Draco hadn't even noticed he'd been hiding it.

A little bundle of lavender was tied with a purple ribbon, and Harry frowned at it.

Draco reached out and broke of a thin leaf, bringing it to his nose. At Harry's puzzled look, he explained, "The leaves are more fragrant than the flowers. There's lavender in our gardens at home."

Harry grinned in relief. "I didn't know."

Draco smiled wickedly. "You know, Potter, you're wicked sexy when you blush."

Harry blushed deeper at this remark, but met Draco's eyes. "Well, Malfoy," he shot back, "you're wicked sexy when you smirk."

Neither of them knew who instigated the next kiss, and neither of them cared.


	3. Through our fights I find myself loving ...

"There was... something else," Harry said softly, eyes closed, lips brushing Draco's with every syllable.

"Oh? And what would this something else be?" Draco smirked at Harry, but this wasn't the "Ha-ha I just caused you pain" smirk he'd been so used to using. This was a "You're sexy, and damn it, so am I" sort of smirk.

"Well... you know how they were always on parchment?" Harry stood and went back to where his Invisibility Cloak was pooled on the floor, looking almost like liquid silver.

"I have every one of them in a cursed drawer. Yes, I know," Draco replied. 

"Well," Harry said as he began digging through the cloak, "well, there was one... Ah, damn it, where'd it go?" He picked the cloak up and shook it, and Draco watched as a rolled-up canvas fell to the floor. It was tied with a piece of gold and silver string. "Here it is. It's strange about this thing," he said, gesturing to the Invisibility Cloak, "because it does have pockets, even though you can't see them. It makes them--"

"Invisible," Draco finished. "But a pocket isn't exactly a thing, so how does that work?"

Harry smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. This one was the only one I ever did on canvas, earlier this year. Seamus almost found it while it was drying," he shuddered, "but he didn't. Thank Merlin." He hesitated, then held the canvas scroll out to Draco.

Draco took it slowly, smiling. "You've drawn me surprised, crying, afraid, smirking... what could this be?"

"Just look at it, would you, you bloody git?"

Draco smiled as he untied the ribbon. The canvas, when unrolled, was much larger than it had looked. Draco looked at it, looked back at a blushing Harry, and then back down at the canvas.

Raven hair fell over a tanned forehead and soft lips pressed against Draco's. A gentle hand reached up and tucked a sprig of lavender behind his ear, and Draco couldn't help but reach up and touch the spot on his own temple. There was nothing there.

Harry shrugged at Draco's curious gaze, fiddling with the lavender still in his hands. Draco's eyes were caught by the movement, and on a sudden whim, he leaned forward and pressed his lips again to Harry's.

As if reading Draco's mind, Harry reached up and tucked the lavender behind Draco's ear.

= = =

"Harry? Are you okay? What are you staring at?"

Harry stopped staring at Draco and coughed. "Er... nothing. Just zoning out, I guess. Sorry, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "That's all right, Harry. Anyway, like I was saying, Ron and I were going to go to Hogsmeade at the next weekend, you don't mind us leaving you alone, do you?"

Harry choked on the pumpkin juice he was drinking. "What?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, honestly, Harry, if you tell us who you're in love with, it'll be so much easier."

Harry's jaw hit the floor. "Wha... what? What are you talking about? I'm not in love!"

"Whatever. Ron, you tell him. I have to go to McGonagall, I only got an A on one of my tests, so I wanted some extra credit..." Hermione stood up and left the Great Hall, Ron watching her.

"She's beautiful, isn't she," he said distractedly to Harry.

"Um, Ron, are you feeling all right?"

Ron laughed. "That's right, you weren't listening when 'Mione told you... We're together, Harry."

Harry's jaw, again, hit the floor. "Wha..."

"Oh, hell, Malfoy's got her cornered at the door." Ron stood to deal with Malfoy, but Harry stopped him. 

"Wait, Ron, let me."  
  
"She's not your girlfriend," Ron muttered, but sank back into his seat.

"Malfoy," Harry said coldly, striding over to where Malfoy was harassing Hermione and ignoring the breaking of his heart--_Great, another fight with Draco._

"Potter. How _lovely_ to see you," he said sarcastically.

"Why don't you just leave us alone for a day, you great twat?" 

"Oh, but then you'd miss me, Potter," Draco said, sneering. "Oh, come off it, Potter, I've seen you staring at me."

"Yeah, well, you'd have to be looking to see me." Harry smirked as Draco flushed, noting the subtle question in the other boy's eyes and shaking his head ever so slightly.

"And they call you the Boy who Lived." Draco snorted, turning to leave, and Harry said, just before he was out of earshot, "I wish they wouldn't."

Draco turned back, looking curiously, into Harry's eyes, but Harry dropped his gaze.

"Get out, Malfoy," he said softly.

"What do you mean, you wish they wouldn't?" Draco asked, unable to contain his curiosity.  
  
"I'm the hero who gets to kill Voldemort. Yippee for me. I'm also a person, and people would do well to remember that."

"Harry, we remember," Hermione said softly, and Harry turned to smile gratefully at her.

"I know, 'Mione, and you're wonderful for it. Now go tell Ron he's the luckiest man on Earth."

Hermione nodded slightly and went back to the table, giving up on extra credit for McGonagall. Harry turned back to Draco. "See what I mean," he said softly, "the Boy Who Lived is more than that."

Draco nodded. "I figured that out when I looked at your essay for Snape and saw Alone's handwriting."

Harry tipped his head. "So why did we act like we hated each other for so long?" he asked.

Draco stood in thought for a moment, then smirked. "Your friends are waiting for you, Potter," he said softly. "Wouldn't want them to suspect, would we?" And with that, he turned and left.

Harry went back to the Gryffindor table, sitting beside Hermione and Ron, who were both staring at him.

"So," he said brightly, "you're together."

"Was that a civilized conversation?" Ron asked in awe. "With Malfoy?"

"No," Harry said softly. "That was a civilized conversation... with Draco."


	4. Through your glances I find myself lovin

Draco sat again on the balcony to the Astronomy tower, staring up into space.

"Hello, love," Harry's voice came softly.

"'Lo, sweet." Draco turned to meet Harry's lips full on his mouth and moaned softly. It had become tradition to meet in the Astronomy tower at midnight every time they had to fight for public reasons, but today, Harry was... different.

"Something wrong, sweet?" Draco asked.

"No. I only didn't finish your painting in time, so I had to come without." Harry shrugged apologetically. "I brought my stuff, just in case you wanted to watch."

Draco nodded. "I'd love to."

In less then five minutes, Harry had taken the Shrinking Charm off his easel and set it up with a half-painted canvas on it. He frowned, looking at a jar of paint. "Running out of white," he muttered softly, and then returned his attention to the painting.

Draco could see enough to see that he was trembling and crying, but this time not from cold or pain. From fear, and he instantly knew the night the painting had come from. "The time we fell asleep under the Invisibility Cloak," he said softly.

"Mm-hmm," Harry said, obviously not listening. Draco marveled at the way Harry's hand seemed to develop a life of its own, dancing across the canvas, accenting the tears with white and the shadows with pale gray. Finally, after an hour of work, muttering incoherently to himself, Harry painted in the lavender--clutched in Draco's hand--and sighed, leaning back. "Another one finished," he said softly, then yawned. 

"Don't fall asleep on me now, Harry, sweet," Draco said. "It's... amazing."

"Well, that's what you've said to every one of them. Obviously I'm not improving." Harry opened his eyes and smiled. "I'd forgotten you were here, love."

"Oh?" Draco cocked an eyebrow at Harry, and Harry laughed.

"I can't paint around people. I just seize up, and everything I try to do comes out looking like crap. So I pretended you weren't here to be able to work, and it worked."

Draco moved to sit behind Harry, letting the other boy lean into his chest. "Do you ever paint anything else?"

"I could. What would you like?"

Draco flicked his wand at the canvas, performing a Quick-Drying Charm, and Harry rolled it up, tapped it with his wand and muttered something--it wasn't a Shrinking Spell, though it did shrink--and tied it with a gold and silver string, handing it to Draco. All this happened silently.

"Love? What would you like?"

Draco looked down into Harry's eyes. "Could you do an angel?" he asked softly. "An angel with jet black hair that never lies flat and brilliant green eyes..."

"I could, but there aren't any around." Harry smiled to show he was joking, but Draco didn't buy it.

"There's one sitting with me right now," he whispered in Harry's ear. Harry shivered at the warm breath on his neck, but only shook his head in response.

"I got my godfather killed," he said softly. "Him and Cedric... and so many other people, every day, every Voldemort hurts, it's just like it's me doing it, and I shouldn't have let him come back--"

"Shh, Harry," Draco said, rather forcefully. "It isn't your fault Cedric or Sirius or anyone else is dead, any more that it's you saying Crucio every night as my bedtime story." Harry winced slightly at this, and Draco stopped. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to yell at you."

"For one thing, you weren't yelling, and for another, you're right." Harry tilted his head back and pressed his lips against Draco's jaw. "I love you, Draco."

"I love you too, Harry."

= = =

_Well, there you go. You requested and angel, and here it is._

Draco smiled at the lack of signature on Harry's part, and then looked for the bit of parchment the painting would be on.

It was an angel, but not quite the angel Draco had been expecting. Blond hair fell into the soft gray eyes of a pale-skinned, white-robed figure standing on a cloud. It looked like it had been done entirely in shades of black, white, and gray, but for the red forked tail and small horns protruding from the smirking angel's temples, and the halo, a wreath of lavender done in dusty green and soft, pale violet.

Draco looked up at Harry, who was watching his reaction, and cocked an eyebrow. Harry blushed and shrugged, as if to say, "I'm no angel."

Draco scribbled out a quick note and gave it to the impatient owl, which had been pecking at his sausages. The owl, amazingly, flew directly over to Harry, and Draco groaned. This was NOT how he would have liked to tell the school.

"Harry, what are you looking at?" Ron asked, trying to follow Harry's gaze.

"Nothing," Harry muttered as the small black owl landed on his plate. He glanced up at Draco, who was looking away.

"Bull," Ron muttered.

_That wasn't quite the angel I was thinking of, sweet. More of a black-haired, green-eyed, more colorful angel. Of course, the tail and the horns were, how shall I say, quite... inspiring. I'm feeling rather devilish, be at the tower tonight._

Harry grinned, slipping the note into his pocket with a slight nod in Draco's direction. "Really, Ron, it's nothing." He reached across Ron for the syrup, but Ron grabbed his arm.

"Harry, what's all this? It looks like..." Ron scrutinized the stuff carefully. "It looks like paint."

"It is, Ron. I was up late painting last night."

"What were you painting? It's all gray. What can you paint that's all gray?"

"Ash. Shadows. A lot of things, Ron, and maybe I'll let you see some of them sometime." Harry smiled, thinking of the several pictures of Draco he hadn't gotten around to owling yet.

"I think it's great that Harry's gotten into painting. It's an ancient and..."

Ron and Harry looked at each other and grinned. "She's hopeless," Ron said softly. Harry nodded.

"'Mione," he interrupted, "I've been painting for about seven years now. If you want, you could come and look at some of the things I've done."

"I'd love to," Hermione said.  
  
Ron frowned. "What about me?"

"What about you?" Harry asked. At Ron's miffed look, he grinned. "Just kidding, Ron. You can look sometime too. Right now, I have to get something from the library before Potions. I'll meet you at Snape's, all right?"  
  
"Yeah, all right," Ron mumbled around a bite of chicken. Hermione nodded, barely looking up from her book.

A few moments after Harry had left the Hall, Draco gave a similar excuse to Zabini and slipped out after him. Harry was waiting for him, and they fell into step with each other, comfortable silence reigning.

"You never answered my question," Harry said softly, twining his hand in Draco's.

"Because you rejected me," Draco said, just as softly, and squeezed Harry's hand.

"I don't understand."

"First year. The train. I wondered why it was you'd accept a Weasley and a Mudblood over the richest, purest-blooded first year there. I didn't understand that there's more important things than money or blood."

Harry pulled his hand away from Draco's as they saw someone coming. "Yeah, right, Ferret-boy, and your father isn't Voldemort's right-hand man." As soon as the person—Harry recognized him as a second-year Hufflepuff—was past, their hands were entwined again. "I hate doing that," he said softly.

"I know. Me too."

"Oi! Harry! Har-" Ron's voice broke off suddenly from behind them.


	5. Thruogh his rejection I find myself lovi...

"Ron, what's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost," Hermione said as Harry slowly turned around, releasing Draco's hand. "Hello, Harry, we were just looking for you. We'll be late for Potions in a minute."

"'Mione... they were... holding hands!" Ron choked out, looking horrified at the very prospect.

Hermione cocked her head. "So Draco's the one you've been staring at these last few months."

Draco smirked, looking at Harry. "Months?" he asked, as Harry turned a bright red.

"You're shagging fucking Draco Malfoy? Harry, what happened to six years of torment? Six years of insults and duels and—"

"Pretense?" Draco interrupted. "Facades? Nothing happened to them, Weasel, and—"

"Draco."

Draco turned to Harry. "Did you even hear him?" he demanded.

"Yeah. 'Mione, since you seem to approve of all this, or at least not hate me, maybe you better go." Harry's eyes were closed; he leaned against a wall and didn't look at Draco or Ron. Finally, when Hermione's footsteps had faded away, he stared into Ron's eyes. "Ron, do you think I don't remember? I remember fine."  
  
"Then what happened to your rivalry? Why don't you hate him? What happened to six years of the Golden Boy, Mudblood, and the Weasel?" Ron demanded. "What happened to six years of insulting us—insulting me?"

"Shut up, Weasel."

Harry looked imploringly at Draco, his eyes saying _Don't_.

"If you want to know why those six years happened, here's the truth. I was jealous of you—a Mudblood and a Weasley gaining the friendship of Harry Potter—and I couldn't?"  
  
"There's more to friendship than having a Death Eater as a father, Malfoy!"  
  
"Yes, Ron, there is. You know, you could be questioning him as much as you're questioning me. What happened to putting Lucious in Azkaban? What happened to the Amazing Bouncing Ferret? What happened to—" Harry fought down a laugh "—what happened to turning his hair pink?"

"I could have killed you for that, Potter," Draco said lazily.

"I just can't take this anymore! If you'll choose him over us, Harry, then fine! Consider our friendship over!"

Ron stormed away, but just before he was out of earshot, Harry muttered, "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm going to start hitting on you, Ron. Is that what you're scared of?"

Ron froze, then said coldly, "Don't presume to know me, Potter."

Harry sighed as Ron stalked away, sliding to the floor with his head in his hands. Draco sat beside him, watching Harry silently for any signs of life.

"Wonder what they wanted to tell me," Harry muttered bitterly.

"I don't know," Draco said honestly.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Unless there's someone you want to hide it from... Those two were the ones I was most scared about."

Draco successfully recognized the change in topics, and wrapped his arms around Harry. "He'll come around," he said softly. "He's your best friend."  
  
Harry shook his head. "Ron's thickheaded and stubborn. The day he accepts this is the day Lucious announces his love for Snape."

Draco smirked at that, suppressing a snort. Harry looked up warily. "What?"

Draco smiled. "Sweet, I seem to remember my father telling me about a certain greasy-haired Slytherin who was—despite appearances—a fantastic lover."

Harry blanched. "Don't tell me he already did," he muttered weakly.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but he did." Draco pressed a kiss softly into Harry's hair, and then tugged him to his feet. "Come on. We'll be late for Potions."

Harry shook his head. "I don't care."  
  
"Come on, unless you want to lose fifty points from Gryffindor."

"It doesn't matter, without Ron to gripe about how unfair he is."  
  
"Harry, come on. Please?"

Harry allowed himself to be dragged to his feet and down the corridor to Potions class in the dungeons. Snape looked up when they walked in.

"Half an hour late," he sneered. "Fif—"  
  
"He's with me, Professor," Draco said tiredly, pulling Harry over to a seat near him. Snape looked appropriately shocked for a moment, but quickly recovered.

"Very well then."  
  
Draco smiled at Harry. "You know why he favors me?"

Harry shrugged. "Other than you're the prince of Slytherin?"

"He's my godfather. H'lo, Sevvie," Draco said to Snape as he came over to get them started on their potion.

As Snape talked, Harry shot a glance at Ron and Hermione. Ron was glowering into his cauldron, angrily slicing willow root, while Hermione sat calmly powdering dried cobra fang. When Harry looked over, Ron shot him a withering glare. Hermione looked up in time to see this, smacked Ron over the head, and said something to him, to which Ron felt it necessary to turn around and hiss, loudly enough for the classroom to hear, "He's a _fag_, Hermione!"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for that outburst, Weasley," Snape said calmly, then went back to explaining the potion to Draco. Harry returned his attention back to Snape's lecture just in time to hear "Do you understand, Draco?"  
  
"Yes. Thanks, Sev." Draco, assuming Harry had been listening, started pulling out ingredients. "I'm out of cobra fang, Harry, do you have any?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "What're we making?"

"Poison antidote."  
  
"Good. Now I'll have something to defend myself against Ron."  
  
"He'd probably use Longbottom's potion if he were going to poison anyone," Draco said, wrinkling his nose in a very cute fashion. Harry hardly noticed, only coming out of autopilot when Ron dropped something in front of him on his way to drop his and Hermione's potion off at Snape's desk.

_Come in late to show off your new boyfriend, Potter?_

Harry frowned, and hastily scribbled a note on the back.

_No, I came to learn about Potions, Malfoy._

He handed the note back to Ron and ignored the look of hatred coming over Ron's face. "Look at this!" he heard Ron hiss to Hermione. "Malfoy! I could never compare to that git!"  
  
"You are acting like him, Ron. Maybe there's a difference between the Malfoy we know and the Draco Harry knows."

"If you're going to talk about us, then you might want to do it where no one can hear," Draco drawled lazily, adding the hippogriff feathers to the cauldron, waiting five seconds, and then stirring it counterclockwise three times.

Ron flushed with anger, but from where they were sitting, neither Harry nor Draco could see.

= = =

"Harry," Draco said later, "Why do you associate with him?"

Harry shrugged. "He's my friend—well, he was. I know for a fact he's not against gays, because one of his brothers is. I think..." he paused to collect his thoughts, "I think it's just that he can't believe I'm with you, of all people." He looked around the empty room at the top of the tower and sighed. "Kind of sad to think that we won't just randomly agree to come here anymore. All of Gryffindor will know, and with Lavender and Parvati, everyone else will know soon."

"You know full well it wasn't random, Harry."

"Yeah." Harry sighed again. "Maybe we shouldn't have, maybe—"  
  
"Maybe I love you and that's all that matters." Draco pressed his lips against Harry's and pulled him close, but frowned when Harry pulled away. "Harry?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Draco. I just... I can't help but feel that maybe Ron's right." 

"And I'm an insufferable git who finds no more joy than in tormenting the Golden Boy and his friends?" Draco snapped. "Ron is most certainly _not_ right, and I—"  
  
Harry looked up when Draco suddenly stopped. "What, love?"  
  
"I want to spend my life with you."

Sighing dejectedly, Harry pulled out his paints, immersing himself in the silvers and golds, whites and blacks, reds and greens. A canvas rested on the un-shrunken easel, and after a few moments, Draco went to sit beside him and look.

Harry was painting a dark background, accented with patches of white moonlight. He smiled and flicked his wand at the canvas to dry the background, then started painting again.

The darkness was soon recognized as the very tower they sat in, as Harry painted each brick in the stone floor they sat on, melting away into blackness. Soon enough, there was an empty Astronomy tower room on the canvas. Harry frowned, muttered something to himself, and kept muttering incomprehensibly as he started painting a lean body wrapped in thin arms. The black of the two robes melted into each other as he painted, making it look as if the two people were simply extensions of the other. Both remained headless until both bodies were complete, and then Harry slowly painted in his own head first, then Draco's in front of him, and finally, the lavender. He frowned, puzzled for a moment about where to put it, and the Draco's hand reached out and brushed the canvas over their clasped hands.

Smiling at Draco, Harry opened two previously unopened, unlabeled jars. "When I started painting you, I bought a lot of pale green, pale violet, and purple, and mixed them with white and gray to get the right shades. These are my lavender colors, and I don't use them for anything else."

"Why do you always paint it last?" Draco asked.

"Habit. It's become my signature, and everyone knows you never sign a painting until it's done."

Draco leaned his head against Harry's shoulder. Harry slipped his arm around him, brushing the canvas again before whispering _Scourigify_ and tapping the brushes with his wand. "It's lovely," Draco said softly as Harry used one hand to put all his things away, shrink his easel, and slip it all into his bag.

"I haven't painted much else but you, so I guess I'm getting pretty good at it."

"Just out of curiosity, sweet, why did you call Weasley by my name?"  
  
"I didn't. I called him Malfoy. You're Draco--my Draco." Harry turned his head and pressed his lips against Draco's.  
  
"I think I see now," Draco murmured.


	6. Through all of this, I'll always love yo...

Harry climbed up the stairs to the boys' dorms later that night feeling exhausted and apprehensive. He slowly pushed the door open, peeked inside, and saw that all three boys had drawn their curtains and were asleep. He sighed and went to his own bed, pulled back the hangings--

--and found something that smelled remarkably like dragon dung spread over his bed, mashed into the sheets, and a note on top that said _"The Fag Sleeps Here."_

Growling, Harry took a cloak and his only unsoiled pillow and went down to the common room, curling up on one of the sofas. He fell asleep quickly.

"Harry, Harry, wake up!"  
  
Harry woke to see Hermione standing above him, and that the fire had gone out. "'Mione...?"

"I heard about what they were going to do. I tried to get them to change their minds, but they wouldn't, oh Harry, I'm so sorry--"

''Mione, it's not your fault."  
  
"It is, Harry. I... I broke up with him in Potions yesterday--I told him I didn't want to date a closed-minded person--but he isn't, Harry, he just doesn't like Ma--Draco."  
  
"I know, 'Mione." Harry sat up and patted to sofa next to him. "Dragon dung... I ought to talk to Gred and Forge... I mean, Fred and George."

"Harry, don't, please--"  
  
"I'm not going to prank him, I just figure that they're a lot more serious than they let on, and they know a lot more about people than they let on. They're in their... which year?"  
  
"Seventh," Hermione whispered.

"Thanks, 'Mione. You're the greatest." Harry stood and headed for the stairs to the boys dorms, this time passing the sixth year dorms and pushing open the next door.

He slipped inside, tugged open a curtain, and was relieved to see red hair. He shook the twin gently, not sure if it were Fred or George. "Um... George... Fred..."  
  
"Right the first time," a sleepy voice said. "What do you want, Harry? It's the middle of the night.

To Harry's surprise, there was another body in the bed, and this one sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Harry... how nice to see you." Fred smiled at him, a lopsided, tired grin. "What did you need?"

"Well, a place to sleep would be nice, but I came for advice."  
  
George shook his head. "Ickle Ronnikins

"Doesn't much like--" Fred took over, seamlessly.

"Draco Malfoy," they finished together.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I knew that much," he said. "What I want to know is--hey!"  
  
The twins had grabbed him and pulled him onto the bed, and one of them was now casting Silencing Charms on the curtains. He sat cross-legged at the foot, looking rather violated.

"Sorry, Harry," Fred said, "but we

"Couldn't have you waking up Lee and the rest," George finished. "Listen, if you want

"Advice on Ron, we suggest

"Waiting him out, letting him cool down,

"And then talking to him

"Civilized-like, you know. Now, as for 

"A place to sleep, there's

"Usually an extra bed in the

"Seventh-year dorm," Fred completed, grinning. "Don't worry, it's

"Nothing like that, we

"Most certainly aren't shagging, we just think

"The beds are too big for

"One person, and we've

"Shared a bed all our

"Lives, so we just

"Share one here, too." George grinned, his face looking like the mirror image of Fred's.

"So you'd let me sleep in here?" Harry asked.

Fred nodded. "Yup, we can't have

"The Boy who Lived

"Sleeping on a couch

"In the common room

"When we could

"Do something about it."

Harry nodded. "Thanks a lot, guys, I owe you one."  
  
"But there's two of us," the twins said at the same time.

Harry rolled his eyes. "All right, I owe you two. Happy?"  
  
"Extremely. Now get out of our bed, Harry."

= = =

"He put dragon dung on your bed? I wouldn't stand for that," Draco said over breakfast the next morning.

"I've got a bed. There's an extra in the seventh-year room, so I sleep in there." Harry sighed. "It's been a month, and nothing's changed. Hermione, Fred, George, and you are my only supporters on this."

"So much so that you're forced to sit at the Slytherin table with your enemy, the evil, bad, mean Draco Malfoy, which only makes your predicament worse. You ought to talk to Dumbledore."  
  
"I won't complain. He's my best friend; I ought to be able to deal with him."  
  
"You mean," Draco said, reaching for the marmalade, "that he ought to be able to deal with you."

"Yeah," Harry said, sighing, "that's what I mean."

_= = =_

_Mr. Ronald Weasley_

_Please report to Professor McGonagall's office immediately after breakfast._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_= = =_

_Messrs. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter,_

_Please report to Professor McGonagall's office immediately after breakfast._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_= = =_

_Miss Hermione Granger_

_Please report to Professor McGonagall's office immediately after breakfast._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

= = =

Hermione ventured into McGonagall's office, knowing what she'd see--Ron ignoring Harry ignoring Ron glaring at Draco glaring at Ron ignoring Hermione attempting to ignore all of them.

"Good, now that we're all here..."

Dumbledore, who was sitting at McGonagall's desk, smiled at the foursome. "I was told that a certain boy has been harassing a certain other boy about his relationship with a certain other boy."

Harry turned to Draco. "Draco," he said, sighing.

Draco pointedly ignored him. "Go on, Headmaster." 

"It seems, Harry, that you found dragon dung on your bed?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "'Mione told me she tried to stop them, and I assume 'them' is Ron, Seamus, and maybe Neville." He turned and flashed a grateful smile at Hermione. "I've been sleeping in the seventh year dorms, thanks to Fred and George."  
  
"What?!?" Ron jumped up, red in the face. "My own brothers have taken your side over--"  
  
"Mister Weasley, calm yourself."  
  
Ron glared at Hermione and Harry before dropping into his seat. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It seems to me, Mister Weasley, that you simply dislike Mister Potter's choice of partners, as opposed to his sexual orientation."  
  
"Are you kidding me? He's shagging Draco Malfoy! How can I not dislike the fact that my best friend is shagging our worst enemy?"

"We aren't shagging, Ron," came Draco's voice, at the same time Harry said, softly, "Best friend?"


	7. Through our lives, I find myself loving ...

Well, here it is, the last chapter... I know I haven't done anything in the way of reveiw replies or anything, or author's notes, but... oh well.

One person asked me in the second chapter if that was all. If your read the author's note at the beginning of the first chapter, you'd find something that says seven chapters a thousand words each they're already written. This is number seven.

Someone else later asked me if I could make the chapters longer, so I decided to upload the rest of the chapters all at the same time.

Anyway, here ya go!

= = = = = =

Ron flushed, though whether it was in anger or embarrassment, Harry couldn't tell. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore interrupted him.

"Mister Weasley, you would do well to remember that Mister Potter's and Mister Malfoy's relationship is key in the war--"  
  
"The war," Harry muttered bitterly, but Dumbledore ignored him.

"--but so is your friendship with him, so if I might suggest a truce?"

Ron glared at Harry, who looked at him, and then he collapsed into his chair. "Right. Whatever."  
  
"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione said, but didn't go further.

"So you talked to Dumbledore," Harry asked.  
  
Draco nodded. "I did."

"I had talked to him about it earlier," Hermione said, "but he didn't do anything. I dunno, maybe there was a reason for that."

"I can't believe he locked us in here," Ron muttered.

"Ronald Weasley, you git, stop complaining. Now you know Harry isn't going to try to shag you and Ma-Draco isn't such a bad guy, you can take the stick out of your ass."

Silence. Then...

"Well, Granger, I didn't know you had it in you."  
  
Hermione blushed. "He needed it," she said, looking at the staring Ron. "Ron," she said, "are we in agreement that--"  
  
"Yeah..." Ron grudgingly conceded.

"All right then." Hermione waved her wand at the door and said, "Alohomora." There was a soft click.

"Bloody hell," Ron exploded, he's off his rocker! He told us that wouldn't work!"

"That was to keep you from trying it Ron," Hermione answered.

Ron frowned, and then turned to Harry. "Harry, I... I'm sorry, all right, mate? And Malf... Draco, I'm sorry to you, too. Let's start over, all right?"  
  
Harry smiled, a hopeful light in his eyes as Ron and Draco shook hands.

_= = =_

_He's so peaceful when he's asleep,_ Harry thought, smiling down at his lover, his Draco. Long blonde hair was spread loose over the pillow, a soft smile played across his lips. This was one painting Harry had never done, always resisted the temptation, but now, with Draco sleeping, utterly sated, Harry couldn't help himself.

He no longer had to conserve canvas like it was vital; he and Draco both had steady jobs with steady incomes, and he could buy as much canvas as he needed. He bought from Muggle shops, preferring their canvas over some of the enchanted ones in wizarding shops. Now, he took out a canvas, taped it off, and painted his Draco sleeping.

Draco yawned widely, smiling softly at the empty bed. It was Saturday, Harry would be out walking. Later, Ron and Hermione would come over, 'Mione enormously pregnant.

Draco smiled, thinking of what the baby would look like. Red hair, of course, but darker red, with traces of Hermione's soft brown. Ron's nose, with Hermione's smile and bookworm tendencies, but Ron's stubborn streak and love of Quidditch. He sighed, wondering what a baby of his and Harry's would look like.

Abandoning that trail of thought, Draco swung his legs over the edge of the bed and went into the kitchen. He smiled at the note on the table--_Went walking. Be back soon_, as if Draco didn't know--and poured himself a cup of tea from the cold pot on the counter. Draco dropped a bit of ice into it and sipped it slowly, staring at nothing, thinking of nothing.

A sudden small explosion of ash and a grinning Ron told Draco that--Ron's here. Seconds later, Hermione followed, significantly smaller and holding a small bundle of blankets.

"Morning, Ron, 'Mione," Draco said softly. "Baby's been born, I see."  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, sliding his arm around Hermione's waist. "He's perfect."  
  
Draco smiled at this burst of fatherly pride form Ron and stood to see the baby. "Can I hold him?"

Hermione handed him to Draco. "He has a long name," she warned him. "Can you remember it?"  
  
"Of course," Draco said.

"All right. His name is Shawn Arthur Bill Charlie Gred Harry Draco Remus Sirius James Ronald Weasley."

Draco sweatdropped. "Shawn Arthur Bill Charlie Forge Harry Remus Sirius Ronald?"  
  
"Gred not Forge, Draco in between Harry and Remus, and James before Ronald," Ron said, having successfully memorized his child's name the night before.

Draco smiled down at the baby. "Hello, Shawn," he said to the sleeping child. Hair covered the infant's head, but it was too thin to tell if it was brown or red. "Shawn Weasley--or will he go by something else?"  
  
"We figure he can be what he wants when he's older. For now, he's Shawn."  
  
Draco smiled. "Well, Shawn, you sleeping beauty, can you remember your name?"  
  
"Who's a sleeping beauty?" Harry asked, handing a canvas scroll to Draco. "I mean, besides you, Draco."  
  
Draco smiled. "Shawn Arthur Bill Charlie Gred Harry Draco Remus Sirius James Ronald Weasley."

Ron's jaw dropped. "He memorized it even faster than me!" he said, staring. Draco just smiled and handed the baby to Harry.

"A lot of familiar names there," Harry said. "Where did Shawn come from, and why Gred?"  
  
"We wanted both twins in, but we didn't want him to have thirteen names, so we asked the twins if they liked Gred or Forge better, and they said Forge, so we picked Gred. And we didn't want him going by a name someone else already had, so we picked Shawn for his first name."

Shawn Arthur Bill Charlie Gred Harry Draco Remus Sirius James Ronald Weasley took that moment to wake up and see the unfamiliar faces above him. He started crying.

Er, that is, he started wailing.

Umm... make that _screaming._

Harry handed the baby back to his mother, who cooed something soft and unintelligible to him. He calmed down considerably and fell asleep snuggled between his mother's breasts.

"Lucky kid," Harry said, "to have a couple of great people as you for parents."

"Um, listen, Harry," Ron said, "we wanted you... that is... WewantyoutobetheSiriustohisHarry!"

Harry cocked his head, smiling softly. "You mean you want me to be his godfather."  
  
"Exactly, Harry, and Draco too," Hermione said, glaring at Ron, who blushed. "We're still looking for a godmother, but we really want you to be his godfathers."  
  
"Of course," Harry said, speaking for both of them.

Shawn stirred, woke up, and began his wailing again, so Hermione smiled and bounced him a bit. "We'd better be going," she said. "Shawn says it's time to change, and we didn't bring any diapers with us. Sorry we couldn't stay longer, we'll see you next week, all right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Ron looked around. "Where's your Floo powder?" he asked. "I don't see any..."

"Right on top of the mantle, Ron, where else? It hasn't moved since last week."  
  
Ron smiled apologetically, threw a pinch of the glittering powder into the flames, stepped inside, and shouted "The other Burrow!"

Hermione pecked Harry and Draco on the cheek and threw her own handful of Floo into the fire. "Bye, Harry, Draco, love you!"  
  
Harry smiled and nodded as she vanished to 'the other Burrow.' "You can open it now," he whispered.

Draco smiled at the little tradition. Every time either was away, a painting would await Draco upon his return. This time, though, Harry had only been away for a few minutes, but Draco didn't question him.

"Sleeping," Draco said softly. "I've never seen me do that before."  
  
Harry was silent, wrapping his lover in a warn hug and pressing his lips to Draco's. For a moment, they stayed that way, and then Draco asked, softly, "Why, sweet?"  
  
Harry sighed. "You ask me this every day, love. I gave up on magic because magic caused so much of my pain. I can get along perfectly well without it."

"I know, I know." Draco's lips found Harry's again, and then he sighed. "I was thinking about kids this morning," he said.

"Draco..."  
  
"It's impossible to have our own, I know, but... I want kids. I want to prove I can be better than my father."  
  
"You already have, love," Harry whispered. "If you really want to adopt, then it's all right with me."  
  
Draco smiled. "Thank you, Harry."  
  
"Isn't it time for you to show me how grateful you are?" Harry asked, drawing slightly away and smiling.

Draco smiled. "You're never satisfied, you bloody pervert," he said, slowly undoing the buttons on Harry's shirt.

"Never."

= = = = = =

Okay, this story is over, but now I want to know if y'all want a sequel. You'll have to wait a bit longer for that one, cuz I haven't even started it, but I'll try to update fast and not get writer's block.


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